Sunday, December 03, 2006

This is something I started writing to you before Thanksgiving but never finished. It has been hard to "post" things, especially pictures, and I have been incredibly busy.

I began this when I was on a train up to New York. I was meeting Jeffrey and David for some JewsRock business. They were going to do a show for XM and this channel, Radio Hanukkah, that I am helping put on the air. Those two guys are smart, interesting and great talkers so I know they will be really good on the radio.

When I was on the train I started to read a book that I had bought. It is actually a play and it is called Rabbit Hole. The play is very popular in New York. I don't know how I learned about it, but I got the play because it is about a mom and dad who lose a son.

I think it is important to read stuff like this. It makes me feel things and think about things. The things are you and you dying and how I am handling it. I think about if I am okay. I think about whether I am doing things right.

The mom and dad in the play aren't handling things very well. The mom seems to want to get rid of all traces of her little boy. She wants to move out of their house. That is so different from me and Mom. The father wants to save everything. There is one scene where the dad goes and watches a video of his son on the TV. There is a note at the beginning of the scene that says the dad should not cry. Funny thing is that I did just that when I read it.

The mom later erases the video - she says by mistake, but the dad thinks it is on purpose. Of course this is why I have put every video of you on DVDs and now on the computer.

The little boy in the play died because he was hit by a car when he was running after his dog. The woman that I hit with the minivan just after you died ran into the street chasing a dog. About a month ago I saw another woman get hit by a car that was driving right in front of me on the way home from work. I saw her and knew she was going to get hit. She just crumpled. I keep seeing it in my mind when I drive on that road.

I never told you about a roommate I had in college whose name was Scott. We lived together for just a semester. When we were in school he was involved in two separate accidents where he hit people with his car and they died. Neither were his fault. It was terrible.

One accident happened when a man walked out from between parked cars and Scott hit him. The guy who died had just come out of the house of his bride-to-be's family. They had been inside planning the wedding.

The second was on a street, Route One, right out in front of school. A car turned around - a U turn - in the middle of the street and Scott ran into it. The driver died. Scott disappeared for a while after that one, and I think he may have quit school for a while too. I remember that he was from outside of Baltimore and he was a really good golfer.

It didn't take long to read Rabbit Hole. I liked the play. I thought the mom and dad should just have another kid and they'd start getting better. Mom and I purposely didn't want to have any more kids because we didn't want anyone in the family who didn't know you. Maybe some people would think that is weird, but it made sense to us.

The man who wrote the play gave some instructions in the back for anyone who was going to direct or be in the play. He said that the actors shouldn't cry or mope around. He said there should be humor. I thought those were smart things to say.

About the same time I read Rabbit Hole, Mommy read a book called My Sister's Keeper. It was about a girl who was dying and was saved by a bone marrow transplant from her sister. The sister was born the way Adam Nash was born and how we were trying to have a brother or sister for you who could save your life.

The mom in the book really didn't care for the baby that was born to save her sister or her older son who was pretty much ignored. Mom said the book and mostly the mom wasn't very realistic. The characters were like cartoon characters, just good or bad and nothing in between. Real life can be very dramatic.

Mom read that book for her book group. Someone picked it and I don't think they had any idea Mom might have a personal connection to the story. I don't know if she has gone to the book group meeting for that book yet.

I know that reading this kind of stuff, doing Hope for Henry work and going to hospitals "keeps the wound open." I don't think we ever want to heal. I know I don't.

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